


cuz they don't have any feelings

by AdorabloodthirstyKitty



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Band Fic, Drinking, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-06-07
Packaged: 2020-04-11 22:25:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19118911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdorabloodthirstyKitty/pseuds/AdorabloodthirstyKitty
Summary: Anti goes to another crappy house party to see a few bands. He wasn't expecting to enjoy himself as much as he did, or to meet someone as captivating as Chase Brody.





	cuz they don't have any feelings

**Author's Note:**

> everything I touch turns to the gayest, sappiest fluff I stg

Anti isn't expecting to get much out of his little excursion when his ride stops in front of a crumbling two story outside the suburbs a few towns over, but the music is loud enough to be heard from the street and he's already here. He shoves his hair out of his eyes and heads inside, his bangs already flopping stubbornly back into place before he crosses the threshold.

The front room is more crowded than he's expecting as he ducks inside, a staircase directly to his right overflowing with people. The sound bounces off the walls of the small, dark space, and without a word Anti descends, pushing through the people lined up along the staircase as he makes his way down to the basement.

The basement is packed, kids packed like sardines near the far wall at the foot of the "stage", a threadbare rug with nothing to keep the fans in front from barreling into the performers. The singer of the current band, some punk group Anti's seen once or twice before, shoves a drunk fan off of him and back into the crowd when he stumbles and tries stealing the microphone. Anti sighs. He needs a drink.

The band plays through a couple loud, fast songs, the crowd jumping, thrashing, yelling along as Anti stays at the back near the kegs. He grabs a drink, perfectly content to stand back against the wall and wait for the next acts. He heard the next group, some bay area grunge band, were pretty good. He hopes that's true, or else he's wasted his night in this shithole with nothing more than warm beer and a future headache.

He's downed two cups of sub-par beer when the punk band finally walks offstage, taking their instruments and leaving the drum behind to head directly for the kegs near Anti. Anti gives them their space, squeezing and pushing through the crowd left waiting for the next act. He gets as close as he can to the front without encroaching on the space left for the band. And he waits.

The first to make their way onstage is the drummer, long hair pushed out of their face as they fiddle with the seat and drum out a couple quick beats. The guitarist comes on next, more clean cut than Anti would have expected, tuning a sleek black guitar and fiddling with the amps surrounding them. Anti takes another long sip, tempted to find a place farther back in case the band is shit.

But when the last band member steps directly in front of him, bright eyes downcast as he pushes the microphone stand down, Anti's feet feel glued to the spot. He couldn't care less what the band sounds like if he gets to look at the singer all night. Beneath the oversized flannel Anti watches the way his t-shirt clings to his frame, a well defined chest and shapely hips, strong but not in a way to show off like half of the shirtless acts that he's had the misfortune of sitting through. He takes another sip as the guitarist and singer plug their instruments in, an image of him shirtless flitting through Anti's mind as the singer finally looks up when they've settled into their places. His eyes meet Anti's immediately, holding his gaze for only a couple seconds before looking out at the rest of the crowd.

"Hey guys, we're C.U.T.E. and this is "Daisy Cutter"."

They jump into their first song, the bass a deep, low thrum beneath the singer's fingers as the crowd around Anti cheers, jostling closer as the bass builds, the drums and guitar climbing with it. Anti's eyes are glued to the singer before he even opens his mouth, the long lines of his arms, the stoic look on his face, mostly hidden as he ducks down. Anti wonders if he's nervous, if he's hiding, but soon all other thought is forcefully pushed out of his mind when the singer lifts his head, ocean eyes meeting his as he opens his mouth to sing.

Usually Anti would be listening closely, dissecting and analyzing the lyrics, the tone, the composition. He would study each member individually, listen closely for any stray notes that didn't quite fit, a sound that wasn't quite right. But for the first time in a long time he doesn't focus on what might be wrong, he doesn't cut the song apart and piece it back. He let's it wash over him, let's it sink beneath his skin, and he enjoys it. He takes another drink, eyes trained solely on the singer a couple feet away from him as he plays, as he sings. His voice shouldn't hook him as much as it does, the way his bangs sway with his movements shouldn't transfix him like it does. He's trapped beneath piercing crystalline irises, bright as spotlights as the singer hums, growls, yells and croons. The songs bleed together, the show a series of moments that stay in Anti's mind, snapshots of the singer and his band: the way he pushes his hair from his face, the smile he gives the guitarist before a particular song, every time their eyes meet, electric and intoxicating. He wonders if they have a merch table somewhere around here, if they're passing out cds. He may have to grab one just so he can actually listen to the songs instead of ogling the singer, but with how often the singer stares back, he can't find it in himself to be all that bothered by it.

He takes note of some of the songs, a cool riff, a lyric that catches his attention. He notes some of the things the singer sings about, love and doubt and anger and sadness, a diary entry put to a beat. He sings honestly, his heart on his sleeve as the bass builds again, as he screams alongside a squealing guitar. It doesn't feel rehearsed, it's not the fake vulnerability other bands have tried to pass off as genuine. Its real, tangible, and by the time the final note has faded beneath the cheering of the crowd around them, Anti knows that he wants to know this singer better, wants those electric eyes to watch him, for the small smile gracing his pink lips to be directed at him. He claps, heart hammering against his ribs when the singer's smile doesn't leave his face when their eyes meet again. He smiles back.

He watches as the band say their good nights, unplugging their guitars and taking them with them as they leave the same way the band before them did, keeping to the wall as they slip past the crowd. Anti meets the singer's gaze a final time before the band is lost behind the shifting crowd, another drummer already taking his spot at the vacated kit. But Anti doesn't stay, having no interest in any band that isn't the one that just left as he moves through the crowd toward the back of the room in search of the band and it's captivating singer.

He finds them upstairs, emptying out into the living room to find a crowd gathered in the kitchen. He spots the guitarist over some of the people jostling in what may be a line, moving closer to see what's going on. He makes his way to the front, finding a rickety collapsible table and a box of cds, the singer's head bowed as he signs a girls cd beside him. Anti turns to the guitarist, pointing toward the boxes at his feet as he pulls his wallet from his back pocket, thanking him as he buys the cd. It's homemade for sure, but Anti's sure that he'll enjoy it if some of the songs they played in the set are on it. He sets his cd in front of the singer, who finally looks up, eyes widening minutely as their eyes meet. He stays quiet, simply looking up into Anti's face before he ducks his head again.

"Who do I make this out to?"

"Anti."

The singer nods, opening the cd to pluck the booklet out, flipping to an empty page at the front to fill it with looping cursive that Anti can barely make out. He leans down, speaking quietly enough that he hopes only the singer will hear. "And if you could add your phone number, that would be great."

He sees the way the singer's shoulders tense, face visibly darker when his eyes snap up to meet Anti's, an incredulous look spread across his pink face. Anti smirks, plucking the cd and booklet from beneath his still hands.

"I heard you guys were good, but no one told me how good looking the singer was." He prays he's not pushing too far, stepping to the side as more fans come up to buy cds. The singer is silent for a beat, signing another cd before he speaks again, barely audible over the hum of voices around them.

"No one told us how good looking the fans were out here," he replies, gaze meeting Anti's before he hands the cd back to the fan with a smile. Anti grins at that, leaving the singer to his signing as Anti flips through the booklet. He recognizes a couple lyrics from different songs in the set, flipping to the back to look up the member's names. _Chase Brody: Lead vocals/bass. Henrik von Schneeplestein: Guitar. Marvin Magnifique: Drums/background vocals._ Anti turns to sit on the table, careful not to jostle Chase as he continues signing, the singer's eyes flitting up at the movement only to duck back down with flushed cheeks. The guitarist, Henrik, doesn't comment, steely eyes flitting to him momentarily before going back to selling cds, the boxes quickly emptying with the amount of people buying them.

Anti waits, reading over the lyrics and half-listening to the chattering between the fans around him, the music from the basement harsh and unpleasant compared to the set before it. When he's done reading he looks up, finding the line has thinned significantly. He sits back, leaning on his hand as he tilts his head to speak to the singer. "So what does C.U.T.E. stand for?"

"Culturally Unimportant Toenail Excavations."

Anti blinks, but before he can fully process the answer the guitarist breaks his silence.

"Chlamydia Until The End."

Marvin, who Anti hadn't even noticed before, seemingly pops out of thin air as he plops another full box of cds beside the empty ones at Henrik's feet. "Cathy's Undulating, Terrific Enchiladas."

"Cuban Ukulele Teachers Enclosed?" Anti asks, Chase's smile a victory when he chuckles over another cd.

"Definitely," he replies, sitting back with a sigh as the flexes his writing hand, the last of the people in line having dispersed. He lifts his arms and stretches with a groan, and Anti wouldn’t be able to stop his eyes from tracking the movement if he tried, enraptured by the muscle shifting beneath the fabric of his shirt and the tiny bit of skin revealed just above his jeans. Chase’s arms flop back behind his chair, eyes finding Anti, and his cheeks go pink again at the undivided attention Anti gives him. The singer looks over the mass of people milling about around the kitchen, no longer giving the band much attention, before turning back to Anti.

“Wanna go see the other bands play?”

“Not particularly. I think I’ve seen the best act of the night by now,” he grins, his smirk growing when Chase sinks lower in his chair with a smile and dark cheeks. “I wouldn’t mind another beer, though.”

Chase nods, turning toward the stoic guitarist, Henrik, who’s busied himself packing up the last of the cds left behind. “You want me to grab you guys some beer, Hen?”

“I think we can manage to get our own, Chase. Go have fun, be back before we leave or you’re finding your own way back home.”

“Gee, thanks Hen.”

“No problem.”

Anti grins, sliding off the table to wait for Chase as he leads him to the keg in the living room, Marvin calling after them as they make their way to the next room. “Have fun and use protection!” he grins, loud enough for a few of the people around them to easily hear as Chase ducks his head, cheeks dark as his pace picks up and they hurry into the next room. Anti doesn’t bother to hide his amusement, laughing at Chase’s expense before draining the last of his beer as they make their way to the kegs.

Anti hands Chase his cup when they get to the front of the line, delighting in the hint of a blush he swears he sees in the singer's face when their fingers brush. "When do you need to be back with the rest of the band?" Anti asks, Chase's look of surprise his only response as he fills their cups before answering.

"Soon, probably. Half an hour at most."

"Not enough time for anything fun," he muses, smirk wide as Chase chokes on his first sip of beer, cheeks dark as he catches his breath.

"Depends on your definition of fun," Chase coughs, Anti smiling behind his beer as he takes another drink.

"And what would your idea of fun be, Mr. Brody?" Anti asks, stepping closer until he's only inches away, looking up at the singer with a smile. Chase doesn't step back, doesn't try to reclaim his space as his Adam's apple bobs,  cheeks dark even in the low light of the living room.

"I'd say this has been pretty fun," he replies, moving the hand holding his beer between them, pointing to each of them. He takes a long sip, cheeks tinged dark as he continues. "I wouldn't be opposed to seeing what your idea of fun is, though."

Anti wouldn't be able to contain his grin if he tried, slipping his free hand into Chase's as he leads him toward the stairs going up to the bedrooms. "Let's see if we can find a place that's more secluded. I'm eager to get you all to myself, if only for a little while," he grins, turning back to see Chase duck his head, cheeks dark and a pleased smile making Anti grin wider, squeezing the singer's hand as they make their way up the stairs.

They pass a couple of shut doors, making their way down a narrow hall. A door to their left opens, revealing a bathroom as a woman walks past them, barely giving the two a backwards glance as she heads toward the stairs. Anti pulls Chase toward the vacated bathroom, flipping the switch and shutting the door behind them. As soon as he's locked the door he pushes Chase back against it, grinning slyly as he plucks the cup from his fingers and drains what's left of his beer before setting it on the counter, putting his own cup beside it and freeing his hands as he finally drags them up the singer's chest to wrap around the back of his neck. He smiles up at Chase when warm hands rest delicately on his hips, the frontman's face dark as he meets Anti's gaze. Anti buries his fingers in the hair at the back of his head, playing with the strands idly as Chase's thumb presses nervous circles against his side. Anti can't help but smile, finding his caution sweet, the way he smiles back soft. Nothing else exists but Chase's small smile, his warm hands on his hips and his body, warm and solid and real, beneath him. Anti wonders idly how the situation changed so abruptly, how a one night stand morphed into this romance movie bullshit he finds himself encased in, unwilling to break free. He wonders if this is just the affect Chase has on him, this slow moment in warm lighting, two bodies trapped in amber. He knows he's wasting what little time he has before Chase has to go, but he can't find it in himself to move any faster as he finally pulls Chase down and lifts up to kiss him, smiling when Chase leans down with such little coaxing.

When they finally kiss it's delicate, slow and lingering. Anti notes the smell of beer and cologne on Chase, the feeling of stubble rasping against his skin when he tilts his head. Anti loses himself to the feeling, pulling himself flush against Chase's body as he tightens his arms around the back of his neck. Chase's hands move in response, arms wrapping around the small of his back and constricting, keeping him close as they share their breaths, as Anti's mind goes fuzzy and soft, focusing solely on the soft lips rendering him speechless, breathless.

A sudden, sharp knock pops the bubble they've found themselves in, a voice behind the door Chase leans against pulling their attention back to the rest of the world. Anti blinks, feeling more affected by the kiss than the beers he's had, Chase huffing out a laugh that fans warm air across the lower half of his face.

"We should probably go," he murmurs, his hold on Anti loosening at a snail's pace. Anti can't help but pout, the grin Chase gives him bright before he leans down to peck a quick kiss to his lips, an apology for the interruption. Anti pulls back reluctantly, feeling cold without Chase's body beneath his, his arms around his back.

"You owe me, Chase Brody," he grins, Chase's smile growing as he takes Anti's hand and turns to unlock the door, pulling Anti past the small line waiting outside the door and toward the stairs.

"I think that's a pretty fair compromise," Anti hears him say over his shoulder, smiling when Chase squeezes his hand as they make their way back into the living room.

Chase pulls him to a relatively empty spot near the door, wrapping his arms around the small of his back and pulling him close. Anti sinks into the embrace, smiling as he burrows into the body beneath him, hugging Chase back with a happy sigh.

"Chase, it's time to go," a familiar voice murmurs behind Anti, Anti's hold on Chase tightening stubbornly. He feels Chase laugh beneath him, a warm hand carding through his hair.

"Alright, I'll be there in a minute," Chase replies, his voice rumbling beneath Anti before the door beside them opens and quickly snaps shut, Henrik heading outside to get their car. Chase sighs, blowing warm air against the top of his head before his hold loosens, leaning back to meet Anti's gaze.

"We're playing a show a couple towns over, if you'd want to see us in a week?" Chase asks hopefully, as if Anti would ever say no.

"I'd be more than happy to," Anti grins, Chase's smile brilliant even in the low light. Anti leans up to kiss it, losing himself in the push and pull of Chase's lips. Before he can commit to making Chase lose his breath completely he feels a tapping on his shoulder blade, sighing before turning in Chase's hold to find Marvin, smirking as he holds a cd out to him.

"You left this on the table, I didn't want you to forget it."

"Thanks," Anti grumbles, Chase chuckling behind him at the petulance of his voice at being interrupted again. Anti sinks back against Chase after taking the cd, the singer's arms still wrapped snugly around him in a hug before a thought comes to him, making him groan.

"I don't have a ride back."

"We'll drop you off, don't worry," Chase replies, leaning down to press a quick kiss against his cheek.

"Are you guys ready to go, then?" Marvin asks, Anti nodding as he disengages from Chase's hold with another pout. Chase takes his hand again, thumb rubbing against the back of his hand as they follow Marvin out the door into the cool night air, leaving the muffled sounds of live music behind them as they make their way toward a dark blue van, Henrik sitting in the driver's seat with the back door open, waiting for them to pile in. Marvin shuts the door behind them and climbs into the passenger's seat, giving Anti the opportunity to sink back against Chase with a smile, warm arms holding him snugly to the body at his back.

Anti rattles off his address when Henrik asks at the next light, turning to lie on his side, throwing an arm around Chase's torso as he snuggles up beneath his chin, Chase's arms staying wrapped around him as he plants light kisses along every inch of Chase's throat that he can reach. Chase runs a hand through his hair, breathing mostly steady beneath him when he lays his head down for the remainder of the ride.

He dozes off at some point, because before he knows it Chase is kissing his hair, shaking him lightly as he blinks his eyes back open. "We're here," he murmurs, sitting up with Anti and releasing his hold on him, smiling at him fondly as Anti rubs at one of his eyes. "We'll see you at the next show?"

"I'd see you every day if you'd let me," Anti smiles back, Chase's grin bright as he chuckles, taking Anti's hand and planting a quick kiss on his knuckles, making Anti's cheeks heat as he smiles.

"See you, Anti."

"See you, Chase," he smiles back, nodding his thanks to Marvin and Henrik when Marvin opens the door beside him with a smile. Anti crawls out, Chase leaning out to hand him his cd, leaving a quick kiss on his cheek before sitting back with a grin. Anti waves as Chase shuts the door again with a smile, watching as the van pulls away from the curb and drives down the street, turning and driving out of sight. Anti sighs, looking over the cd as he makes his way up to his apartment, unlocking the front gate and heading up to his place.

He tosses his jacket off and kicks off his shoes as soon as he steps inside, setting the cd on his bed before shucking off his clothes and pulling on an oversized sleep shirt. He goes about locking up and shutting off the lights, brushing his teeth before crawling into bed, keeping the light on at his bedside as he opens the cd case to pull out the booklet, flipping back to Chase's signature. To his surprise he finds a series of numbers beneath it, and he's sure they hadn't been there when the singer had first signed it. A small heart accompanies the phone number, leaving Anti grinning brightly as he searches for his phone, finding it in a pocket of his discarded jeans. He plugs the number into his phone, opening his messages before simply sending a heart, flopping back onto his bed with a grin. He's surprised when his phone buzzes in his hand, his grin growing even wider at the reply: a matching heart from Chase Brody. Anti's grin is so wide it hurts, and his smile doesn't leave his face until well after he falls asleep.

He's looking forward to the show next week.


End file.
